So, enough additional stuff has happened since I wrote the Parable of the Window that I've made some changes in my "room". Perhaps it really happened when I became Monster Girl and I just didn't realize it until now.
Last night I realized that I just don't care any more if Beauty Man comes in to open the window enough. I think I'm not truly in apathy about it all, but I'm definitely on the verge of it... and rather glad to be where I am - emotionally speaking.
I think I hear you wondering what changes I've made in my "room". Well, I imagined myself in my "room" the other night. Surprisingly, instead of seeing myself curled up almost dead, as has so often been the case, I saw myself curled up in a corner (as I've "seen" before) and realized I wasn't in complete fetal position. My face was turned oddly. Upon closer consideration, I realized I was breathing through something like a straw, sort of. I realized, as I studied the situation, that I'd scraped a hole through the wall in my "room" and the straw-like object was pushed through the hole into the world of air. And I was breathing. Not totally naturally, but breathing just the same. And the breathing requires mega-focus... but still breathing!
Additionally, I saw that my fingers were busy working around the straw-like think to make the hole bigger. The hole I'm carving out of the wall will only be big enough to allow a free flow of air. I'm not trying to get out of the room. I'm just trying to create a way to stay in the room that is not dependent upon someone who has proven unreliable and uncaring.
How does this analogy compare to real life. I'm not really sure, to be completely honest with ya! Odd, aint it?
I will tell you, though... my husband has done some nice things lately. What he has done has been totally inconsistent, though. And because of how close (in time) they are to unresolved issues (for me they are unresolved)... Anyway... it just doesn't matter to me. Not a bit in my conscious caring mind. In the back of mind it registers... but I'm just so focused on breathing that I can't deal with anything else.
For instance, Beauty Man called to tell me he loved me (in the middle of his, probably 14 hour, day at work) and tell me he missed us a lot. Yeah, that used to be nice. I used to like that kind of thing. I used to look forward to it and hope for it. He USED to do it pretty regularly. Now... don't care a bit and, in fact, it's annoying because I was trying to finally eat my lunch (3:30pm!) and it was then he called. Probably I should've just had my eldest ask him if he MUST speak to me, and if not for her to take a message... but given our past, I knew he would probably be completely miffed by that. So, I answered the phone. Told him thank you for trying to be thoughtful and that I'm sure the children missed him, too. I don't miss him. Not a bit. In fact, I think it would be simpler if he would just work 14 hour days 6 days per week. And I only say six and not seven because I believe firmly in keeping the Sabbath Day holy. *sigh*
This is from the woman who has been fighting with her man to be home more because the children need him. I'm not even worried about that anymore. He's been too much a jerk to them too often that I can't help but think it's all around better for him to work more than less. Not that his hours have ever really gotten to BE less... he's been steadily working 63+ hours since he started this job too long ago.
Is that totally mean? Probably. But I just don't even care right now. :(
I probably need to study the stages of grief/mourning. It just seems highly likely that this anger is part of a mourning process. Mourning the death of another hope. *sigh* I'm so tired of this full morgue!
Showing posts with label parable. Show all posts
Showing posts with label parable. Show all posts
Friday, March 16, 2012
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
The Parable of the Window
Pre-Post Note:
YEAY! I'm posting a week later than my last one! YEAY for some all vitories. Okay, so it's not on the day I'm trying to do it regularly, but still. Baby steps ARE steps! :)
Last time I mentioned sharing with you a Parable I've written. I call it: The Parable of the Window, which you can see is the title. Obviously. :) Now, this Parable has to do with my Love Languages, my man, and how he does or does not speak my Love Languages. If you don't know anything about Love Languages. I encourage you to read the book entitled: The Five Love Languages. I've been reading a blogger I really like, so the link for that book will take you to her Amazon store. Every little bit help! I hope, if you're interested in that (or any book), you'll search for what you want through her store, which you can find by the links I've included and also on her BLOG. It is a really great blog! Of course, I may like it so much because she writes (and maybe thinks?) similarly to me. At least, that's how it seems by what she writes and how she expresses herself and the way she names things. I just think it's always fun to read from others who seem to be kindred spirits!
On to the Parable:
I am in an air-tight room. There is no ventilation ducting to this room. The door is sealed tight. There is one single window in this room. The seal around it, too, is airtight. Only one person has the ability to open the window. My Beauty Man, my husband.
When he opens the window, he allows fresh air to flood the room (my heart and life). He opens it by touching me lovingly, speaking to me kindly and encouragingly. He can open it by calling to say hi and tell me he was thinking about me while he's at work. He opens it when he rubs my feet or shoulders - especially when he does so without being asked. He opens that window when he gives me specific compliments about the things I'm trying to do, my appearance, something that he loves about a food item I've prepared. There are myriad ways he opens the window. But it is not held open permanently. Opening it requires effort on his part. When he stops making the effort to hold the window open, it falls closed and seals air-tight-shut again. Oftentimes, my man not only stops holding the window open, but also leaves the room entirely... shutting the door firmly on his departure.
Leaving the room is figurative because my husband hasn't physically left me in any permanent way. But every time we have a disagreement, he usually stomps off in a huff. This is one form "leaving the room" takes in our marriage. He also leaves the room when he refuses to have a conversation. Or when he refuses to answer a question and says, instead, "I don't know," or, "I don't remember." Clearly these are unacceptable answers.
And I am left alone. Initially, I often don't realize he's actually departed.... he sneaks out as often as he stomps out. I'm just so relieved to breath again... and he takes my state of distraction as his cover for walking away. When I realize he's gone, I usually (especially in the beginning), would just think something like, "Oh, he'll be back soon! He won't stay away long!"
But then he does. And I start to really miss the fresh air... I miss his presence and his effort. So, I start to knock on the door. I almost always start with soft knocks... trying to get his attention. Eventually it moves to louder and louder knocking and on to pounding on the door... just hoping to get my man's attention in hopes that he'll come visit my room and open the window.
The room IS air-tight, please remember, so eventually I start to feel difficulty breathing. My breath comes with greater and greater difficulty. I stop pounding on the door. Actually, I stop trying at all. It is at this point, at some stage of me sitting in a corner of my room (or lying in foetal position about to die of asphixiation) that my man comes in the room and opens the window. Almost every single time... I'm about to die in our marriage before he does anything about it. :(
You may wonder why I don't open the door myself. You might ask, "Does the door NOT have a knob on it?" Those are appropriate questions, I suppose. I hope, though, that you are not married if you ask them. If you are, perhaps you simply have a different idea of marriage than me. That is, of course, totally possible. For me, though... if I open that door, that means I'm looking for some outside source to affirm me in ways that ONLY my husband should be doing. And, honestly, I would rather die in my marriage than break my covenants, which I have made to my God and husband. So, I don't touch the knob, though there certainly IS one.
There have been lots of times when I've been sitting in the corner... at some stage of dying or about to die-ness that I look at the knob a lot and wonder what it would be like to turn it and go outside my little room. I know this is dangerous territory. I am working on NOT looking at or contemplating that knob when things are at their worst. Every once in a while, though, it has been kinda good that I looked... cause things actually do NOT look greener on the other side when I have. Not overall... there might be patches of greener... but not the whole lawn... at least... when I've tried to see without seeing. And since that's the closest I'm gunna go to checkin out that grass... well, I think THAT sort of knob-lookin' has done me good.
So, that's my Parable. Definitely NOT amazing and minimally put as The Master parable-teller's. But it's mine. :) Monster Girls can be pleased with their silly efforts, too... can't I?
YEAY! I'm posting a week later than my last one! YEAY for some all vitories. Okay, so it's not on the day I'm trying to do it regularly, but still. Baby steps ARE steps! :)
Last time I mentioned sharing with you a Parable I've written. I call it: The Parable of the Window, which you can see is the title. Obviously. :) Now, this Parable has to do with my Love Languages, my man, and how he does or does not speak my Love Languages. If you don't know anything about Love Languages. I encourage you to read the book entitled: The Five Love Languages. I've been reading a blogger I really like, so the link for that book will take you to her Amazon store. Every little bit help! I hope, if you're interested in that (or any book), you'll search for what you want through her store, which you can find by the links I've included and also on her BLOG. It is a really great blog! Of course, I may like it so much because she writes (and maybe thinks?) similarly to me. At least, that's how it seems by what she writes and how she expresses herself and the way she names things. I just think it's always fun to read from others who seem to be kindred spirits!
On to the Parable:
I am in an air-tight room. There is no ventilation ducting to this room. The door is sealed tight. There is one single window in this room. The seal around it, too, is airtight. Only one person has the ability to open the window. My Beauty Man, my husband.
When he opens the window, he allows fresh air to flood the room (my heart and life). He opens it by touching me lovingly, speaking to me kindly and encouragingly. He can open it by calling to say hi and tell me he was thinking about me while he's at work. He opens it when he rubs my feet or shoulders - especially when he does so without being asked. He opens that window when he gives me specific compliments about the things I'm trying to do, my appearance, something that he loves about a food item I've prepared. There are myriad ways he opens the window. But it is not held open permanently. Opening it requires effort on his part. When he stops making the effort to hold the window open, it falls closed and seals air-tight-shut again. Oftentimes, my man not only stops holding the window open, but also leaves the room entirely... shutting the door firmly on his departure.
Leaving the room is figurative because my husband hasn't physically left me in any permanent way. But every time we have a disagreement, he usually stomps off in a huff. This is one form "leaving the room" takes in our marriage. He also leaves the room when he refuses to have a conversation. Or when he refuses to answer a question and says, instead, "I don't know," or, "I don't remember." Clearly these are unacceptable answers.
And I am left alone. Initially, I often don't realize he's actually departed.... he sneaks out as often as he stomps out. I'm just so relieved to breath again... and he takes my state of distraction as his cover for walking away. When I realize he's gone, I usually (especially in the beginning), would just think something like, "Oh, he'll be back soon! He won't stay away long!"
But then he does. And I start to really miss the fresh air... I miss his presence and his effort. So, I start to knock on the door. I almost always start with soft knocks... trying to get his attention. Eventually it moves to louder and louder knocking and on to pounding on the door... just hoping to get my man's attention in hopes that he'll come visit my room and open the window.
The room IS air-tight, please remember, so eventually I start to feel difficulty breathing. My breath comes with greater and greater difficulty. I stop pounding on the door. Actually, I stop trying at all. It is at this point, at some stage of me sitting in a corner of my room (or lying in foetal position about to die of asphixiation) that my man comes in the room and opens the window. Almost every single time... I'm about to die in our marriage before he does anything about it. :(
You may wonder why I don't open the door myself. You might ask, "Does the door NOT have a knob on it?" Those are appropriate questions, I suppose. I hope, though, that you are not married if you ask them. If you are, perhaps you simply have a different idea of marriage than me. That is, of course, totally possible. For me, though... if I open that door, that means I'm looking for some outside source to affirm me in ways that ONLY my husband should be doing. And, honestly, I would rather die in my marriage than break my covenants, which I have made to my God and husband. So, I don't touch the knob, though there certainly IS one.
There have been lots of times when I've been sitting in the corner... at some stage of dying or about to die-ness that I look at the knob a lot and wonder what it would be like to turn it and go outside my little room. I know this is dangerous territory. I am working on NOT looking at or contemplating that knob when things are at their worst. Every once in a while, though, it has been kinda good that I looked... cause things actually do NOT look greener on the other side when I have. Not overall... there might be patches of greener... but not the whole lawn... at least... when I've tried to see without seeing. And since that's the closest I'm gunna go to checkin out that grass... well, I think THAT sort of knob-lookin' has done me good.
So, that's my Parable. Definitely NOT amazing and minimally put as The Master parable-teller's. But it's mine. :) Monster Girls can be pleased with their silly efforts, too... can't I?
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